


moreish

by gotchick



Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: Friends With Benefits, M/M, domestic AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-24 18:51:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17709632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotchick/pseuds/gotchick
Summary: they'll make this work. whatever it takes.





	moreish

**Author's Note:**

> so this is really a nothing kind of fic, super forgettable and short, just a writing exercise but i hope you enjoy reading it for a few minutes anyway :)

“I’m moving out.”

Three simple words from Jinyoung, ever so casually while loosening his tie, and Jaebum’s entire world tilts on its axis.

It feels like a lifetime before he exhales — he’d forgotten to breathe for a moment, something he thought only happened in fiction — but it’s only been seconds. He steels himself, because Jinyoung is looking at him expectantly, but his voice is slightly shaky when he answers.

“Let me help you pack.”

That hadn’t been what he wanted to say. But it was the only thing he _could_.

Jinyoung looks surprised, but not disappointed. “Okay.”

Jaebum stands up, dragging his hoodie hems down with clammy fingers. “Where do you want to start?”

 

They’re in the room Jinyoung decided to begin, his tie tossed over the back of the couch, top button of his pristine work shirt undone and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Jaebum keeps a more careful berth than usual, feeling the fresh awkwardness between them acutely. Jinyoung has a duffel in his hand he avoids looking at, boxes in the hallway Jaebum unearthed from the closet wordlessly when Jinyoung asked if he had any.

It’s the guest room, or ‘Jinyoung’s bedroom’ used only when guests sleep over, for propriety’s sake. Everybody and their mother probably knows their relationship is more than roommates, than friends, but they’ve never asked bluntly, probably because Jaebum and Jinyoung never told.

It’s spare, obviously unlived in with the few toiletries and changes of clothes Jinyoung needs on those odd nights. They’d offer their guest this room, but predictably he would insist on sleeping on the couch — because for some dumb reason Jaebum and Jinyoung just couldn’t enter the same room and shut the door in front of a witness. And now they would never have to.

Jinyoung has started work without ceremony, throwing open the closet and tossing a few things into his duffel — Jaebum will have to help him fold them up neatly later, because that’s what he always does. It doesn’t look that way on the outside, but Jaebum is the housekeeper between them.

He hovers behind, desperate for something to do with his hands. He can smell Jinyoung’s cologne from this far, and feels grimly thankful he won’t have to smell it again, to remind Jinyoung not to spray it in front of the cats when his mother brings them to visit.

Speaking of which — he doesn’t know how he’ll break the news to his parents. After five years, they’d only just accepted that Jaebum is going to be co-habiting with another man for the foreseeable future, and no, he’s not going to get married by thirty. Jaebum’s mother had started visiting once a month instead of every six months, a clear sign she’d warmed up to Jinyoung.

It’d seemed to mean so much to Jinyoung, just a few months ago. Jaebum had even felt a pressure — a nice, giddy weight, the sensation that they were set for forever.

He’d never felt like that about anyone he’d met — that they were going to be part of his life until the end. And now, the only human he’d allowed himself to think of in this way feels wrenched away abruptly.

 

“Is this yours or mine?"

Jinyoung is holding out a pair of sneakers, one that had in fact been Jaebum’s, but he’d only worn once. Jinyoung had kept looking at it on that day, another one of the ubiquitous days they went to a nice restaurant to eat and then strolled around without ever calling it a date. Jaebum offered to switch shoes with him at the end of the night, after Jinyoung pecked him awkwardly on the corner of his mouth, then looked away. Jinyoung’s own sneakers were beat up, and Jaebum actually really wanted them, because he knew if he kept them forever he would think of Jinyoung every time he saw them.

Now, he hopes Jinyoung will take those with him too.

“They’re yours,” he replies as neutrally as he’s able. “So are those at the back of the closet.”

“Oh.” Jinyoung unearths them. Jaebum’d worn them, just once, to feel Jinyoung’s lingering warmth, and then kept them away just before they fell apart in a corner where they would stay intact. They’re dusty now, relics. Old and almost ugly. Jinyoung looks slightly embarrassed to see them too, like he’d forgotten that night.

“I’m done,” Jinyoung announces, tossing the shoes into the bin. He stands up and dusts his hands off on his thighs. “Will you help me carry this bag to the couch, please?”

Jaebum wordlessly complies, Jinyoung stripping the coverlet off the bed as he leaves. He drops the duffel under Jinyoung’s tie on the couch, and closes his eyes briefly. Opening them, he realises it’s not a dream.

 

The room looks sparser than before when he returns, only the lone sheet balled up on the bed with the pillowcase. Jinyoung pauses shutting the closet door when he says, “What about the other stuff?"

“Toss them out for me.”

Jinyoung slings the trash bag over his shoulder and walks out of the room, heading for their bedroom.

 

Jaebum walks in with two cups of Jinyoung’s favourite tea five minutes later. Jinyoung is already knee-deep in packing and he looks up, creasing his brow in surprise. Jaebum offers him a cup and he hesitates before taking it.

“Thanks.” Jaebum takes a sip of his own and eyes Jinyoung until he takes one too. He sets down his cup on the dresser, picking up a few of Jinyoung’s books.

“Where should I put these?”

Jinyoung points to a suitcase. He grimaces. “I know that’s yours, but —“

“Take it,” Jaebum answers. _Take everything_. He wonders why he almost added that.

“Thank you.” Jinyoung has slid on his glasses and is going through a bunch of stuff he’s pulled out from under the bed. Jaebum sees both their high school yearbooks, almost identical when stacked atop each other.

He thinks of the matching signatures on the last pages of both books, the last day of high school. He thinks of that year.

He’d met Jinyoung in the middle of their second year in high school, on the cusp of seventeen. He’d spent many long afternoons at that time lying on the deserted rooftop of their classroom building, thinking about life, and on one of those, Jinyoung burst through the door.

Neither he nor the trio of bullies at his heels noticed Jaebum at first. And so, unwillingly, he witnessed Jinyoung being tormented to the point of tears about “having a crush on one of them.”

He gathered that the four of them were originally friends and Jinyoung was losing not only his dignity but people he trusted and liked. He read the shame scrawled plainly on Jinyoung’s face, the self-hatred and desire to disappear forever into a hole in the ground, and for the first time in his adolescence, Jaebum felt a violent stirring in his heart.

Because that was how he had felt every day ever since the nightmarish moment he realised that he didn’t like girls, but boys.

The bullies eventually left, but not before leaving Jinyoung in a wreck. Jaebum was trapped by then, had no way of sneaking off without revealing his presence, and Jinyoung stayed lying on the cold hard ground, unable to get to his feet, for what seemed like hours.

When Jaebum was near enough to see the drying tear tracks on his face, Jinyoung finally sprung up, his eyes wild with fear and consternation. Jaebum’s face, too, was burning. All he wanted was to walk away, to let his silence and retreating back reassure Jinyoung that he wouldn’t tell. Not because they were the same, but because he felt a red hot anger for those despicable bullies, and an inexplicable solidarity with Jinyoung whom he had never even noticed around school before that day.

He was pretty — really pretty, the forbidden side of Jaebum noted, as he had been doing with more guys recently. It wasn’t the first time this fact would stop his heart in the years to come, but it was the first he didn’t let it show. There was no real way to tell Jinyoung he was gorgeous, through the years, so Jaebum settled into not bothering to try.

 

That afternoon, the sun beating down on them, Jaebum had forgone all his instincts and kneeled down beside Jinyoung, his heart pounding so loudly he couldn’t hear anything else. Jinyoung’s eyes were saucer-like and he didn’t resist when Jaebum touched his cold hand, then pressed their palms together firmly. He could feel Jinyoung’s heartbeat picking up in his wrist as overpowering relief, disbelief and understanding dawned in his eyes.

They started finding each other on the rooftop — Jinyoung would poke his head around the door, shyly, his whole face lighting up when he saw Jaebum lounging there. Jaebum never let it show, but he started looking forward to school solely because of these clandestine after-school hours with Jinyoung.

They never did anything clandestine, but at that age, in that environment, simply meeting up with the knowledge of what they had shared in their hearts was enough to send his teenage heart and hormones into overdrive.

It was all they needed, so much so that by the end of their third and last year of high school, all they had ever moved on to was chatting, and the barest, accidental brushes of hands as they lay next to each other on the rooftop and stared at the sky.

 

So from their long hours talking about everything under the sun, he knew all about Jinyoung and Jinyoung knew everything about him — except the most important thing, which was that he had fallen hopelessly for Jinyoung. He had a crush on Jinyoung, and if Jinyoung did not have a crush on him too, Jaebum felt like he might actually die.

He might wind up being the first person in the world to die of a broken heart.

 

On the last day of high school, he thought Jinyoung wasn’t going to turn up. He almost hoped so, because he had been wrestling so much with the conflict of going separate ways after high school that he hadn’t slept in nights and he looked the train wreck he felt like.

It was writ so large on his face, the fact that he was expiring from pining, that he knew Jinyoung would be able to read him like a book. And Jaebum didn’t want to pressure him into anything, if Jinyoung didn’t feel the same.

Something in his chest unfurled when Jinyoung pushed open the door, hesitantly, for the first time in months. They’d taken so for granted that either one would find the other every afternoon that they just burst through the door every day without a second thought, like they had made the place their own.

And it had become a sanctuary, unconsciously, accidentally, like Jaebum realised sanctuaries found you.

“Will you sign my yearbook?” Jinyoung jolted him into disoriented reality with the unexpected question. Shakily, Jaebum took the proffered pen and scrawled a sloppy signature. His pen paused on the last words.

 _Best wishes_ , he wrote mutely, and then took his own yearbook out of his bag for Jinyoung to sign too.

He doesn’t remember ever feeling so panicked again in his life as he felt that day.

 

But as he was leaving, running away before he exploded, Jinyoung reached down for his hand. A real, unmistakable hand-hold. Jaebum remembers how his heart had leapt into his throat just like it was yesterday.

“Do you… I… do you want to…?”

Jinyoung spat out the words incoherently, his cheeks and ears flaming. His palm was clammy against Jaebum’s, and just like that, it was the happiest day of Jaebum’s life.

He parted his lips to the tentative, clumsy probing of Jinyoung’s, and laced his fingers through his schoolmate’s.

 

Because they’d already applied to different universities in their attempts to pretend it didn't matter, and regretted it abjectly, when Jinyoung’s new friend Jackson backed out of a living arrangement without warning and asked Jaebum to take his place, Jaebum had hesitated for less than a second before agreeing.

Jinyoung’s hidden smile had made his heart throb, then.

It was this house they’d moved into a short time after graduating and starting work. Everyone just thought they’d gotten so used to being roommates, they were sharing a place to save expenses. And they never found it difficult to justify living together.

Everything had been sort of makeshift, inexplicit, an arrangement of convenience, that Jaebum hadn’t grasped that it wasn’t set in stone until today. It turned out that Jinyoung could and would up and leave at a moment’s notice, and the world would still go on spinning.

 

Somewhere along the way, in university, they’d become sex friends; fuck buddies, if that was the term for never having spelt out their relationship in zeros and ones, in the almost ten years that had passed since high school.

Jinyoung’s probably right — they’re twenty-five, and it’s time for change. It was impossible for them to live like this forever.

 

Jinyoung distinguishes between the yearbooks easily and tosses his in his duffel, placing Jaebum’s back where it was. Jaebum remembers those long sweltering hours under the sun, punishing himself for being himself, the feeling of silently drowning.

In the bathroom, Jinyoung tosses his toothbrush in the bin. He leaves their shared toothpaste, doesn’t open the medicine cabinet with his old prescriptions. Jaebum wants to hurt him by asking him to take everything, but just feels too worn out to speak.

 

They work in tandem, dragging the packed bags to the door together. Jinyoung balls up his tie and shoves it in his pocket, rolls down his sleeves. Jaebum fights down the suffocating sensation in his chest. It’s just the pain of being left so suddenly, abandoned. He’ll get over it once he’s processed what happened. He’ll do fine alone. Everyone is alone, anyway, and nobody stays. It’s the universal truth.

Jinyoung plays with his fingers for awhile, seeming to want to say something.

“I’m sorry,” he finally speaks, pulling the ground out from under Jaebum again.

“For?” Jaebum grits out, thinking, _Don’t tell me_. He doesn’t want to hear about where Jinyoung is going. What — or who — he’s leaving Jaebum for.

“I should’ve told you earlier, given you some notice.”

A silence. “You were planning this? I mean, you didn’t just… decide?”

Jinyoung laughs, bitterly. “No. It’s not just a while I’m leaving for, you know.”

“Why?” Jaebum bursts out — or only in his mind. He still sounds calm outwardly; numb.

“Why?” Jinyoung looks, oddly enough, relieved by his question. “You mean, why am I leaving?”

Jaebum nods, resigned, burning with curiosity.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I guess I’m just… tired. I wanted to be alone for awhile.”

“Alone?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I just thought…”

“You thought I was leaving for someone else? Why would you think that?”

“Why else would you leave?” He hears his voice getting defensive. “If that’s not the reason, you could just stay here. We could go back to being friends, if that’s what you —“ Jaebum stops, hating the pleading in his voice.

“Really?” Jinyoung’s voice is chillier.

“What?”

“We can never go back, hyung, No matter what.”

“Yes, I know — I didn’t mean that… But — _why_?” He’s starting to sound like a record breaking down.

Jinyoung sighs. “I told you. I’m wrung out by the highs and lows. Physically and emotionally exhausted. I'm afraid... something like this can't end well. For a while, I just — I just want to stop feeling.”

Jaebum understands Jinyoung far better than he would like. It’s this numbness Jinyoung's talking about, he realises, that he’s feeling right now. For him, it’s the precursor of deep pain, but can Jinyoung really feel nothing after vanishing into the world without him?

“You can do that… if you leave this house? If you leave…?” He swallows hard, still unable to say the words.

Jinyoung’s eyes look red-rimmed, blinking. “I have to try.”

 _Why?_ Jaebum wants to repeat, but forces himself not to.

 

He can’t be selfish. Not if staying is really so painful and uncomfortable for the only man he’s ever felt for.

But still —

“Maybe we can work on it. I know something has to change, but can’t it be something else? Anything other than this?”

Jinyoung looks surprised, stricken by his earnest plea.

He smiles, thinly, but for the first time since the start of their solemn procedure.

“Relationships aren’t supposed to be work,” he reminds Jaebum, quietly.

“But maybe they are!” Jaebum catches himself, flushing. “I mean, what _isn’t_ work? If you think of it this way, everything we do is work of some kind. Some things just don’t _feel_ like it. Because… they’re worth it.”

Jinyoung looks up at him, silent. Jaebum can’t read his expression and his heart trips.

“Maybe it’s not that the whole thing is over. Just… the honeymoon phase.”

“The honeymoon phase?” Jinyoung repeats, chuckling a little. Jaebum wants this, here, whatever it is, suddenly, with such an ache it threatens his breathing.

“What I’m saying is —“ he struggles, “— I want you to stay.”

Jinyoung’s hand slowly moves down from the suitcase handle. He looks torn.

But he says, “For how long?”

“I don’t know,” Jaebum rambles. “Long enough for us to make sure. That this really isn’t worth working for.”

 

It’s an eternity. But Jinyoung drops his duffels, too, whispers _Okay_ , and Jaebum knows they’ll make this work. Whatever it takes.

**Author's Note:**

> i know, that was super blah and underwhelming. i wrote it in a few hours and it felt that way to me too. if you enjoyed for a few moments though, that's enough for me :)
> 
> the plot is actually inspired by a korean movie i never watched, i forget the title. i read a summary about the plot somewhere, which is basically about a man helping his girlfriend to pack and leave, and the introspection during this.


End file.
